


Rum and Opium

by CoconutRum



Series: Rum and Opium [1]
Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies)
Genre: BDSM, Bottom Jack, Consensual Kink, Established Relationship, Light BDSM, M/M, Safe Sane and Consensual, Top Will
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-02
Updated: 2020-06-02
Packaged: 2021-03-03 18:36:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24510124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CoconutRum/pseuds/CoconutRum
Summary: Jack Sparrow is paying off a debt at a brothel, as a hire, himself.He and Will have a romantic, kinky history, but have been apart for months. Will stumbles into the brothel, hoping to score some comfort, and ends up stumbling onto Captain Jack himself. Consensual kinky fun ensues!**If you care to skip ahead, the sexy times happen in Ch. 3**This is an imagined circumstance. Will has not wed Elizabeth, but instead has had a complicated, yet, enlightening history with Jack as his lover. The two never called anything ‘official’ - but they never truly ‘broke up’ either.This takes place in one of their hiatuses, which happens to be a longer time stint. Will is conflicted. He doesn’t want to ‘cheat’ on Jack, but hates the bastard for limiting his options when he’s this horny. (*They have an accord when it comes to men...and men only. Women … free for all - because, well...Jack )Pent up and feeling a bit aggressive, Will hears about a brothel catering to ‘unique tastes.’ and decides to investigate. Keep in mind, Will secretly dabbles in BDSM. He IS a blacksmith, and knows his way around steel, leather, and….fire.
Relationships: Jack Sparrow/Will Turner
Series: Rum and Opium [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1771099
Comments: 5
Kudos: 25





	1. Seeing Things

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own any of these characters or related elements. Do not use any of my work as your own. Do not post without permission. The kink presented in this work does not represent the extent of real-life practices and safety. Do not attempt to replicate the kink in this work, as it is purely fictional and meant to remain so.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will stumbles into a brothel, where unbeknownst to him...Jack is working, paying off a debt.  
> What could possibly happen?

The brothel was of higher class than most in this part of town. The foyer, a large, circular expanse with ample space for social niceties. Patrons, mostly men, sat in fine dress at low tables, sipping and smoking as night set in. Surrounding them were elegant displays of wine, brandy, tobacco, and absinthe. Shelves lined the back wall of the bar, holding all manner of oil lamps, gilded goblets, decanters, snifters and delicate bell jars. Wall torches were glowing amber, casting shadows against the intruding moonlight, with tapestries hanging on the opposing walls, heavy with the dampness of the Caribbean heat. 

Moving through a central corridor, Will made his way into the main room. He was greeted by a paunch man, dressed in royal purples and blues; clearly of higher status (*and high opinion of himself, thought Will.) 

“How may we be of service to you this evening, young sir?” said the host.  
Will noticed him fidgeting with the crisp pages of a small black book, and matching quill.

“Turner. My name is Turner.” The man made a note.  
Will continued, “You came of high repute, and I was in search of a spot of entertainment. Perhaps, some … distraction tonight,” Will said, slightly out of breath. “I was told your establishment was known for providing for those seeking something, a little….different.’’

A smirk played on the host’s face. “We can most certainly oblige,” He extended a hand to Will, “And please, call me Pryce.” Will shook his hand firmly, settling a bit.

Pryce continued, his smile reaching his eyes, noticing a satchel at Will’s side. Advancing, he motioned to it, “And would you be interested in *participating* in any of our entertainment tonight, Master Turner?” His tone implied a hint of a challenge.  
Turner’s fingers suddenly began to fiddle with the leather strap of his bag.  
Sensing his hesitation, Pryce continued, “We encourage our guests to utilize any...skills...they may bring to the table, should they want to enhance their experience; or perhaps give a *demonstration* using any of our talented hires. I assure you, identities are closely guarded here.”

He considered for a moment, as his host ushered him to a high table, discreet, in the back of the room, motioning to the bar tender.  
“We cater to barons, dukes, countesses, marquees and the like; and respect the need for discretion.”

Perhaps this place was safe, and he would not have to be on guard about his past, or his interests. As they sat, Will gazed, taking in his surroundings.

The room smelled of opium, frankincense, and a hint of musk. Plumes of smoke fell from the ceiling, where coils of incense burned in brass bowls, and candles guttered in translucent orbs of colored glass. Patrons in various states of undress reclined on plush couches and chairs of burgundy, gold and russet tones. 

A girl, wearing nothing but an elegant silver chain around her waist straddled a man, grinding against his trousers; her pert breasts swaying as she moved. A red haired woman dripped emerald colored wax on the back of a beautiful youth who lay face down on a padded leather chaise. The boy’s skin was alabaster, nearly translucent, and Will watched his ribcage as he breathed. He sighed, seeing two men entwined in a corner against richly textured cushions and furs. One had his hand fisted in the others hair, moaning as the man between his legs suckled and nipped along his tanned thighs. Will also noticed something resembling a stage at the front of the room, but not lit enough to make out what was on it. 

With moans, and sighing surrounding him, the young blacksmith’s mind was fogged with too many thoughts, all of them tinged with lust. He always knew he had what were considered ‘unconventional’ tastes and practices, but found ways to act on them discreetly throughout his life. His mind drifted a bit, recalling an evening of calloused hands, dark skin that tasted of sun and salt; a man’s warm, rich eyes, blown black with lust. Firelight winking through bruising kisses.

Perhaps he could find something, or someone, here he could indulge in. It had been months.

Turner’s thoughts grounded as a fair haired boy of maybe 18, set down two snifters of brandy at their table. As the boy turned to leave. Pryce took his elbow, gently beckoning him back. The boy stood, eyes downward, beside the host as the older man raised a hand to the boy’s chin, tilting it upwards towards Will. Having caught Will’s attention, Pryce caressed the boy’s cheek absently, making him blush brightly under Will’s dark gaze.

“You see, Master Turner,” Pryce pulled the boy down to him, kissing his neck and nibbling his ear before letting him back to work, “we don’t only provide traditional pleasures of the flesh, but rather strive to let our patrons indulge in their own way. Tell me, are you a man of any particular skills which may be put to use with our...services?” Pryce sat back in his chair, hands crossed on the table.

Young Turner’s breath hitched as he reached for his brandy and took a sip, welcoming its warmth down his throat. He was never this full of nerves. Usually, he was the one being assertive and interrogating. He was a pirate Captain. And, he thought, would never bring himself to dress as Pryce, parading around like an arrogant peacock. He shoved the thought to the back of his mind and took a breath. How long had it been since he had even this sliver of freedom to truly let loose such a vital, yet secret and primal piece of himself? 

It wasn’t exactly anger he suddenly felt. Resentment? But at what? The passage of time stealing away the memory of those nights below deck? At life forcing him to shift away from those guilty pleasures he reveled in so much?  
He felt childish in that he couldn’t even name what it was he was feeling.  
Absently, he checked that his satchel was still fastened.

Tonight, he needed to reestablish control. Let loose the gnawing aggression and hostility he had been harboring for what felt like years. To center himself.  
“Yes,” Will started, “I would like to take part in tonight’s entertainment.” He felt a surge of his more natural dominance rear its head. “I can pay.”

Pryce’s eyes glinted, “Delightful.” He downed his remaining brandy in one swig, and motioned for another. “We have equipment of all sorts. Crosses, spanking benches, places for wax, rope and blood play,” He noticed Will’s eyes widen a bit, and pressed on, entertained at the young blacksmith’s subtle eagerness.  
“Private or public space; the latter being our lovely viewing stage. We only allow public play on stage after 11pm.”  
Will recalled what he had seen earlier, glancing to the front of the room. Pryce took his brandy, as well as a heavy kiss from the fair haired boy who returned with it. Will watched the boy give what sounded like an involuntary moan as Pryce’s tongue invaded his mouth; breaking apart after a long moment.

“Now, do tell me what you may have in mind,” Pryce finished, a little breathily. 

Will’s mind raced. Coils of tension building in his gut. “You mentioned many kinds of play, but I’d say there are many more than that brought to the stage?” Will reached into his satchel and pulled out a small rod of iron, with a bulbous cloth on one end, resembling a miniature baton. “Do you allow fire on your stage?”  
Pryce’s eyes twinkled with delight. “Indeed, Master Turner. Might I be forward in giving you a copy of our guidelines and expectations of participants before continuing?” Will nodded.  
Pryce produced two pieces of periwinkle paper from his book, (*Will fought not to snicker.) and handed them to Will. As they were fairly routine, Will had no qualms signing the waiver and document outlining rules regarding consent, limits and safety. And, after inspecting the contents of Will’s satchel, Pryce drew up a contract which they both signed.

Will looked up from the table, suddenly realizing how many more people had come in during their discussion. The lights on the stage began to humm with warmth and the room lamps were slightly dimmed. At the next table, a tall man with a shock of white hair, dressed in crimson robes held an elegant leather lead in his hand. On the other end of it was a slender figure cloaked in sheer, silver mesh. From his vantage point, Will was unsure as to whether they were a man or a woman. He could also smell a hint of sex in the air, excitement bubbling through his veins. 

“Well, Master Turner,” Pryce edged in, “Next, and perhaps the best for last, is the subject of hires and payment. As you can see, we offer a wide selection to satiate anyone’s palate. Experienced, young, exotic, virginal, sadists, masochists….” he paused, seeing Will’s mouth quiver at those last words.

Memories cascaded through his mind - of his own body recoiling in pleasure as salty ocean spray bit down on his raw, flogged skin. He thought of his own hand pressing a dagger to tawny skin, the other holding fast to a branded wrist. And of those soft, sinful lips hiding gold capped teeth. 

The young Captain’s blood was suddenly singing. He held Pryce’s gaze.

“Masochists, you say?” 

Pryce stood, beckoning Turner to follow, a bit more jaunt in his step as he and Will made their way to the front of the room. “We can leave your effects at the bar with Dorian, I assure you, they will be quite safe.” After depositing Will’s things, they went to a doorway draped in scarlet.

“This is our private selection room. As everything must be deemed consensual, we allow our patrons and hires to engage in a bit of limited conversation before terms are agreed. However, before conversation, is obviously ...a viewing of our ‘potentials.’ Pryce led Will into a smaller parlor, with similar, but less furnishing than the main room. The host gestured for his new patron to drink in the view.

Men and women, clad in simple yet elegant garb - clearly tailored to accentuate and flatter their physiques (some with scant clothing and little left to the imagination)- lounged in groups throughout the room. Some, mostly women, fussed over each other as they saw the host enter, preening and adjusting their clothes and hair. Keeping a look of nonchalance as they did so, hoping for a glance. Others kept to themselves, leaning against the wall, taking deep pulls from opium pipes. Their eyes catching the dim lamp light. There were a few couples lazily kissing and nuzzling one another.

Despite them being clothed, Will noticed many of them bore marks on various body parts: bruising, welts or small, delicate healed burns. A part of him glowed inside at the notion and validation at this being exactly what he was craving. And all the more, they seemed perfectly content with their surroundings. None wore anything to indicate ownership or servitude. They appeared in good health and, he noted a couple removing their clothing, clearly enjoying their job.

Pryce prattled on. “All of our hires in this room are what we refer to as ‘go betweens,’ as they are not permanent keepsakes. Many of them are working in exchange for safehouse, paying off debt, or even trying their hand at the business itself.” Pryce looked around proudly, his chest slightly puffed. “We only put them out on the floor or on display here, once they have been with us at least 2 months and proven to be assets in some way.” Will looked puzzled. “I must keep business in demand, Master Turner. Another mouth to feed won’t pay for itself.” Will nodded.  
“ The majority of this particular group have proven quite lucrative in promoting business in …*your* line of fancy.’’ He turned to face the group. “To reiterate, you are looking for someone who can handle a fair bit of pain, exhibition and some *rough* play and handling, yes?” 

Moving throughout the room to get a better look, he nodded.  
“Please, look around. Tell me if you see anything you like. Rules however,: Clothing stays on, you may kiss, you may touch, and yes….be a little rough….They do enjoy that... but within reason.” Pryce couldn’t suppress a grin at young Turner’s expression. “But, any indication that they want to stop - you cease all contact and engagement. ” Seeing Will nod in understanding, Pryce gave a little wink as he let Turner loose in his menagerie of elegant creatures.

Will’s heart rate was increasing. Everywhere was beautiful skin, breathy moans, underlying excitement and what felt like unspoken desire vibrating him to his core. He had to admit, it was getting difficult to ignore the stirrings in his gut, threatening to go straight to his cock. How long it had been since he had had a willing play thing?! It felt strange to admit how much he wanted, and even needed this. And here he was in the middle of what he was having trouble discerning from a dreamscape.

A blond woman, dressed in fine silk that hugged her curves, came up beside him. She dazzled him with a smile and ran a finger from his chest to his chin. Her other hand gently fisted the hair at the base of Will’s neck. 

Instinctually, Will mirrored her movement, but continued more aggressively, pulling her hair and head back, exposing the fragile column of her throat. She did not shy away, but gave a nearly silent chuckle of amusement and... invitation. With that, Will slowly explored her body with his free hand, and leaned into her shoulder, licking her clavicle experimentally. She arched into his touch as he nipped the delicate flesh where her neck and shoulder met. He was rewarded with a whimper and she reflexively grabbed at his chest. She smelled of cinnamon and smoke. He drank her in, relishing the heat building within him. 

The young blacksmith took a moment to breathe, and simply walk the room. He felt heady with desire and felt his skin prickle with unsatiated dominant energy. The need to harness, and channel it felt like lightning down his spine as he circled the perimeter. Through a veil of smoke, his gaze fell on a pair of women giggling and whispering into the ear of a man Will couldn’t quite see, on account of the two of them obstructing his view. One straddled the man’s hips, while the other had his head in her lap. They were kissing him, massaging his chest and pressing their breasts onto his face. Watching the man’s hips slowly rock upwards, Will heard him give a throaty laugh.

“Easy on the goods, darlin’...” 

Turner’s blood ran simultaneously as fire and ice

“No,” he thought. But he felt his back stiffen with what could only be described as a combination of dread, exhilaration and shock. He slowly approached the three of them, straining to hear if the man spoke again. The girl straddling him was in a fit of giggles, grinding circles with her delicate hips. Will craned his neck to see around her as the second woman sat up straight, adjusting her hair. The man also sat up, now in clear view, with his own hair a mess of beads, coins and trinkets, and facial features arranged somewhere between blissed out and drunk. 

Will forgot how to breathe. How to think. How to speak. His flesh was alight with anger, relief, confusion and desire. 

His heart threatening to turn its cage to dust, and his lungs feeling as though they’d been ripped out, he stepped towards them. It took every fiber of his being to not give in to every animalistic instinct he had ever experienced and bridled in his life. Steeling himself, he took a breath and held it. From between the two women, the man looked up, and stared into his eyes.

Dark, glittering, coal rimmed eyes, flickering with mischief held Will’s gaze. 

Will saw the scar on the right side of his bottom lip...the one he loved to bite. The graze on the man’s lower jaw that never seemed to heal. Glints of gold that flashed in the lamplight as those wicked lips twitched open in a gasp.

Will could only manage to utter a single word as he exhaled.

“...Jack…”


	2. Introductions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will and Jack catch up...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fire and knife play/kinky shenanigans. If that's not your bag, jump to Chapter 4.
> 
> I do not own any of these characters or related elements. Do not use any of my work as your own. Do not post without permission. The kink presented in this work does not represent the extent of real-life practices and safety. Do not attempt to replicate the kink in this work, as it is purely fictional and meant to remain so.
> 
> All kink in this series is considered consensual.

Will’s mind raced to ten thousand places at once. He felt as though he’d combusted into thin air, unable to reassemble his corporeal form and yet rooted to the spot as though all the liquid in his body had turned to lead.

Both the last, and only thing he wanted to do was rush at Jack and…”and what?” he asked himself.

Murder him - was what immediately came to mind.

No. Kiss him?... Maybe.  
…. Smack him? Will thought better of that last option, remembering all too fondly what it led to in the past and knowing now was not quite the opportune moment; despite wishing it were. He felt as though they were inside a cyclone in a state of suspended animation. The world continued to whirl around them but everything between stood still. 

With a keen eye attuned to detail and a mind to keep business coming in, Pryce slowly approached Will from behind. He cleared his throat to announce his presence, and hopefully not startle anyone, breaking Will’s trance and bringing him back to reality. 

Surveying the 4 of them, he spoke slowly, “Master Turner, may I be of some assistance?” 

Will’s mouth was dry as he struggled to regain his powers of speech. Jack sat, motionless, still between the two women, staring up at Will with a very subtle, but threatening smirk. 

“This man here,” Will gestured to Jack. “How long has he been in your employ, and with what cause?” 

Pryce politely gestured for the two women to excuse themselves. After a quick assessment of Jack, he spoke freely to Will. “Nearly 5 months. He is paying off a debt to our house as well as seeking refuge.” Pryce glanced at Will, seeing the conflict in his expression. “Would you like a further inspection or negotiation regarding the terms of engaging this man?” He motioned for Jack to stand. Jack did so, never breaking his gaze with the young blacksmith.

As Jack stood, Will took in the sight of him. His clothing was simple. Linen. Loose fitting but clinging to him in the humid, smoke saturated air. His shirt stuck to him just enough for Will to make out the ghosting shadows of his pectoral muscles. Enough of his neck and chest were exposed, leaving Will wanting to lick the sweat off his breastbone. Pants hung on narrow hips doing a poor job of hiding Jack’s gloriously thick cock - which was straining, after his activities mere moments ago. 

Will somehow managed to form the correct and appropriate thoughts into words.

“Yes. I would like to further inspect this man.” He paused to collect himself, trying not to laugh at the absurdity of these circumstances. “Are there any rules regarding how I go about this, other than what was previously discussed?” He was nearly panting to control his actions. His restraint was crumbling. Pryce shook his head. “I’ll leave you two some room. If you’ll excuse me, I'm going to check on my girls over there. You’ll both remain in my line of vision.” With that, the man in purple sauntered away.

With Pryce gone, Will weighed his options, silently circling Jack.  
When was the last time he had made Sparrow squirm beneath his blade, writhe in pleasure through the pain of his beatings, or beg permission to come?  
He knew Jack could read at least some of this on his face. 

Jack stood stark still. Not an ounce of embarrassment or shame. He watched Will, his William, with humor playing in his eyes. Will circled twice, and stopped to face Jack.  
“If all you’re going to do is look, luv, I may as well go back to me room for a drink, savvy?” Jack literally turned to leave, with all the swagger Will remembered, still in his hips.

After all this time, of all the things Jack could do or say, he chose teasing! Something in Will snapped, and he took it as the invitation he’d been subconsciously begging for. 

He lunged, grabbing Jack’s shoulders, turning Sparrow to face him again. A leer crossed Jack’s mouth, breaking the last of Will’s resolve. He pressed Jack backwards, not stopping until he shoved him against the wall with a satisfying *thunk.* Both men were breathing heavily. Turner felt his own arousal stirring. In a fit of frustration, he plastered his chest to Jack’s, pinning him solidly beneath his own weight, and clamped a hand to Sparrow’s throat. He pushed upward, forcing Jack’s gaze; and pressed the other hand firmly to the man’s dick. 

Jack tried to muffle a pitiful whine as the blacksmith held the heavy sac in his hand, fondling his balls through scraps of linen. Those rough, talented fingers. Jack thought about the scar on WIll’s left palm. Of licking and kissing it. He wriggled and twisted his body in attempt to break the young man’s hold. Will removed his hand from Jack’s throat, but replaced them on his wrists, while aggressively shoving a knee onto Jack’s cock in reply, leaving him nearly buckling and breathless.

Sparrow’s skin tingled with sweat as Will continued his exploration. His lips hovering above Jack’s - breath hot and staccato in its rhythm. Turner pinched a nipple, and scraped his nails up Sparrow’s ribs, eliciting an unabashed mewl from the Captain at his mercy.  
“Is this what you wanted?” asked Will as he dug his nails into the tender flesh of Jack’s side, directly below his ribcage. He increased his knee’s pressure into the man’s swollen cock. Jack bucked slightly, to Will’s amusement. “To get me so wound up and pissed at your disappearing act, that when I found your snarky little ass, I'd be forced to use you, till there was nothing left?” Hearing Jack remain silent, he rubbed small circles with his knee and bit down on Jack’s earlobe. “Hmm??” He stilled, maintaining pressure in his jaw and leg, feeling the Captain’s pulse in his mouth. The pirate was trembling with need in his grasp. Rock hard, Jack’s cock left a damp spot where it stood at Will’s full attention. 

Jack was beginning to pant and squirm as his brain processed what was happening. Every nerve was screaming for more and simultaneously, for cessation of his own existence. Sweat was pooling on his back against the wall, and he arched to gain more friction against his dick. As he moved, Will redoubled his efforts, pressing his entire body into the shorter man, tilting his own hips against Jack’s. They were hand to hand now, both fighting a frenzy of lust and animalistic urges to take each other apart.

Somewhere in the deep recesses of his mind, Jack heard Will speak.  
“I asked. You. A. Question.” Will’s voice was husky and unwavering. “Is this….” he wriggled his knee mercilessly at Jack’s groin, and laved at the hollow of his neck, “what you...wanted?” Sparrow chest heaved. Turner glared, daring him to make a joke, or laugh, as he slowly pressed his own painfully hard dick against him as hard as he could, holding him to the wall.

Jack couldn’t fight any more. “Yes. Will.” He whispered, “Tear me apart.”

No sooner had the words left Jack’s mouth, Will was gone, having let go of Jack completely, leaving him free falling, or rather...collapsing face first onto the floor as Will went to find Pryce.

Stunned, and his cock positively raging, Jack got up onto his hands and knees. He chanced a shout at Will “You always did like me better on all fours!” The blacksmith turned to see Jack’s hips swaying languidly. Will didn’t take the bait. “Preference or not, you’ll have to do more than beg for it this time…” 

Will made quick work of arrangements with Pryce, given his own desparate need to fuck Jack senseless and alleviate his aggression towards the (very willing) pirate. They agreed that they would go on stage at 12:30am, giving them ample time to negotiate and prepare anything necessary. Pryce gave Will a quick tour of the stage, showing him where any necessities were located: Lube, spreader bars, all manner of impact instruments, rope, knives and anything else Will may find useful.

It was contracted, given both Pryce’s and Will’s histories with Jack, if they drew enough of a crowd, Jack’s debt would be considered paid. During the business transaction, Jack had gone back to his room to see to his much neglected cock and of course, have a swig of rum before the show. 

Pryce had Will sign another document of consent, (*Written by Jack, himself) which outlined his own limits, history and other details pertinent to hiring him. He explained that if the document sufficed as representation of Jack’s stage rules and physical guidelines, that Will would not have to discuss these matters with him in person before the show; unless there was something missing or warranted verification. Will took the time to read it carefully, chuckling at his recollection of some of their own discussions about these very notions, years ago aboard the Pearl. Not much had changed, and he made note of what had. 

Lastly, Pryce asked if Will had any requests as to how he wanted Jack presented to him.  
“Simple. Leave his current clothes on. He doesn’t deserve to be pampered right now.” He reached into his (reacquired) satchel, and handed Pryce a leather collar of deep brown hide with a piece of eight shining at its center above a brass O ring; and its accompanying leash.”Wearing this as well.” He added, “It ought to shut him up and give him something to….reflect on.’’  
Pryce nodded, understanding. The two shook hands again, and Will went to tidy up and change his clothes. Black breeches, tied with accompanying deep saffron colored wrap, over which he placed a dark, weathered belt with a tarnished buckle that hung elegantly across his hips. Remaining shirtless, he clipped and stored some of his personal effects as he would need on stage. He arranged tools and furniture as he saw fit, and checked the stage for safety equipment and anything that may be problematic during his scene. Satisfied, he took his place in the wings where Pryce had told him to wait, and continued to mentally prepare himself for what he had been craving for what felt like a lifetime. 

Patrons began to trickle in, finding comfortable seating. They lounged, feeding, groping and kissing one another. There was a pair of gentlemen seated at a table, each with a beautiful, naked woman on a leash at their feet. They watched their pets, pink flesh on gleaming white furs, exploring each other like lovers. One woman kneaded her friend’s breast, the other hand working the slick folds between her partner’s legs. Will’s mouth went dry as blood flooded his cock. He shook himself, looking away. Doing so, he caught sight of Pryce, who nodded, holding a cigar and settling himself in a plush chair, quite satisfied with what had fast become standing room only. Will saw a lanky, strikingly stunning dark skinned woman seated at the table next to Pryce. Tribal scarring around her eyes gave her an ageless look. She appeared to be of high status, given her dress and adornments, and was accompanied by two burly men, clearly guards. The woman unabashedly stared at Will; there was something unsettling about her. He brushed the thought aside.

Finally, the lights began to dim, and a hush fell over the crowd as their eyes adjusted to the dark. There was no preamble, announcement, or introduction of any kind. The audience was already respecting his presence, anticipating, with curious gazes. Will watched galaxies of shimmering dust swirl in the dim lights, and took a breath. His ears picked up on faint music in the background, a combination of tribal and seductive. Nothing distracting. 

The curtain parted across the way. A tall man with warm, silken, ebony skin began slowly advancing towards the middle of the stage, leading Jack.  
Will walked to join them, breathing deeply and drinking in the sight of Jack on the leash, his hackles bristling with bridled energy and need. Silently, the tall man gave Jack over to Will and disappeared off stage. 

Their eyes met briefly, Jack with a cheshire grin, daring Will to break the spell of silence. Instead, Will stepped behind him, running both hands over his broad shoulders. Jack suppressed a shiver, as he felt the leash being pulled back, forcing him to crane his neck upward, once again. “See anything you like, luv?” Jack whispered, subtly pressing his taught ass to Will’s crotch.

Not to be toyed with, Will’s practiced and agile hands swiftly swept a dagger from his belt, and pressed it firmly below Jack’s jaw. He pulled the leash tighter, threatening to stop Jack’s breath. Sparrow gasped as the blade bit into flesh. Will leaned into his former lover’s neck, “Remember your place, pirate.” As Jack stilled, he felt Will shift the blade, dragging it down his chest, sending pinpricks of stinging pleasure through him. 

Recalling Will’s skill with a blade, Sparrow kept hands at his sides, fisting them anxiously. Suddenly, the blacksmith drew the cool steel down the length of Jack’s abdomen in one swift motion, splitting the man’s shirt in two, and sending a thin, fiery trail down the man’s skin. He tore off the scrap linen, tossing it off stage, admiring the captain’s newly exposed flesh. Jack snickered as the cool air kissed his skin. Desperate for contact, he reached back to snag the blacksmith’s hips. 

Turner had none of it. Still holding the leash in place, he wrenched Jack’s arm into a bent position behind his back. Jack’s body was arched like a taught bow string; his hips canted forward, forcing his cock to rub and press lewdly against his pants, straining. Maintaining Jack’s position using one hand, Will took the opportunity to stroke Jack’s length with the other. He rubbed upwards slowly, then gave the base an experimental squeeze, earning a growl from his captive. “Mmmm,” Will reminisced, stroking Jack faster “Just like I remember.” Not letting him get too comfortable, Will moved his hand to the crest of Jack’s hip, and pushed the captain forward towards the St. Andrew’s cross.

The blacksmith released the grip on his leash. Jack, recalling his motor functions, stepped up to the cross, awaiting instruction. He could feel sweat stinging the path Will’s blade left on his skin. He reveled in fond memories of deeper cuts. The tang of blood in the air as Turner’s body slid against his, slick and promising.  
A firm hand on his wrist brought him back to the present as Will lashed his arms to their corresponding sides of the cross. The ropes bit into the fragile skin as he turned them, experimentally testing the tension as Will did the same. The cross’s leather padding was cool on his front as he settled into it. His length pressed against the center apex. 

The cross was displayed at nearly a three quarter angle, so the audience mostly viewed Jack from the side. Will removed the leash, and set it somewhere for later.

Both men’s breathing calmed a bit as Will assessed his instruments. He selected a smaller knife, a delicate spade shape, and began drawing shapes into the broad expanse of Jack’s upper back. The spade’s pointed tip could easily break the fragile skin; Will wielded it carefully. The blade glinted as it made new cuts and elegant markings on Jack’s tanned, sun-soaked hide. Soon, the captain’s flesh glowed with seared patterns of crimson, shining in the footlights. He hissed as Will nicked a particularly tender spot just below his axilla, and felt a cool trickle of blood run down his ribs. A second pin-prick stung his left scapula, followed by another narrow line of scarlet, skimming down his back. His breathing caught in his throat, chest tight. He knew where this was heading.

“We playing a game, luv? Writing naughty words for me to guess?” Jack chided, trying to distract himself from the pleasant burning on his back and the agony of his erection against the cross as he moved, seeking release from any direction. His breath quickened.

Will remained silent, admiring his work. The mass spread of muscle laid out before him, with echos of scars from what seemed another life, nearly faded. Carnal pleasure building in his groin, he watched Jack’s ribcage expand and contract erratically as he tried to guess Will’s next move. The blacksmith smiled to himself. To have this animal under his control stroked his ego and fueled his inner sadist...and an inner sadist must be satiated.

Given his hips were not restrained, Will reached a hand into Jack’s trousers, taking full hold of his length. Jack nearly yelped and tried to buck, but Will held him mercilessly,  
in place.  
“This is not a game...love.’’ Turner licked the shell of his ear. “And if you try to come without permission…” He squeezed Jack’s tip, giving it a little twist, making him writhe against his bonds, “there will be consequences.”  
Jack trembled and quivered in place, panting.

Will retrieved 2 small batons from a glass jar filled with clear liquid, lighting one of them, and approaching Jack again. With the unlit wand, he painted a stripe of alcohol diagonally; starting from the knife’s bite at Jack’s left scapula, dragging it down to the crest of his right hip.

Jack tensed at the cold, burning sensation. “Promises, promises, dear William.”

As the words left his mouth, Will placed the lit wand to Jack’s back. A flame danced across raw flesh, white springing from cobalt. The pirate captain drew his shoulder blades together, pressing his chest into unyielding panels beneath him fighting to flee; a cry rising in his lungs. Delicious agony was short lived as Will expertly swept his hand down the trail of light, extinguishing any remaining licks. Jack barely had his breath back when he felt another stripe of cold painted across his side.

The flame sizzled in the carving beneath his axilla before flying downwards along his side. Jack arched away, his body fighting panicked instinct and pleasure. A third and a fourth flame licked at his raw flesh, mingling with sweat. He lost count. He was growing impossibly harder, unable to think. The race of flames was overwhelming.The contrasting sensations overtaking his mind as Jack fought for control. Flashes of sex flitted across his vision. Memories of Will holding him down while he screamed in his release. Of Will’s rough hand stroking his cock. His heart rate was dangerously high now; he trembled as Turner finally brushed away the last of the fire trails. Jack sagged in his bonds. 

The young blacksmith checked Jack’s wrists again for damage, as he untied him. He looped a hand through the O ring on his collar, turning Jack to face him. Then playfully spanked his ass to break him out of his reverie. 

“They don’t do that in Singapore now, do they, darling?” He teasingly ran his palm broadly along Jack’s raw skin, causing him to instinctively curl into Will.  
“Sticks and stones, luv.” Jack said defiantly. That wicked mouth, always so clever. Even debauched and threatening to collapse, Jack always had a smartass comment. Will decided it was time for Jack to utilize his mouth in ways other than speaking.

Guiding them towards a cleverly angled chaise lounge, Will cradled Jack’s head in his hand, and pulled him into a deep kiss. Jack fell bonelessly against him, melting into the affection. Adrenaline having stolen his defenses, he moaned breathily into Will’s welcoming mouth. The blacksmith sucked Jack’s tongue and bit the scar on his lower lip, eliciting a delightful whine from the captain. Jack’s hands were restless and wanting, slowly working their way up Will’s body. Turner stopped him cold, breaking the kiss and pulling the hair at the nape of Jack’s neck, forcing him to pause. His eyes, always lined with coal, looked like gem stones of melting tiger’s-eye. Bottomless and dark. 

The audience remained enraptured. Will had nearly forgotten their presence up until this moment, as all he heard was blood rushing in his ears. All he could see was this man; this powerful, clever, beautiful, dangerous man...submitting to him. 

Turner held him there. He then took two fingers and traced Jack’s lips, parting them easily. Jack opened obediently as Will pressed inward. He was breathing fast through his nose, trying to read Will’s face. Pulling Sparrow up straight, the blacksmith slowly crooked his fingers downward onto the middle Jack’s lower jaw. He gently pressed. The pirate’s mouth opened further, his breath coming in hot gasps over the back of Turner’s hand. Will began to straighten his elbow, pulling and guiding the dark man's body down. 

“Kneel.” Will whispered.

Sweet bliss overtook Jack’s mind as he sank to his knees. The floorboards were painful, but welcomed as he was still so shaken and weak from the cross. 

Will took a few steps back from him, until he felt the backs of his legs hit the chaise. Like the cross, it too was angled for a better view. Jack’s heart stopped as his blacksmith’s hands deftly undid and dropped his belt; the buckle playfully clanking as it hit the floor. His mouth watered. Will continued, removing the amber sash from around his waist. He stopped. Seeing Jack’s confusion, he slowly sat, slightly spreading his long legs.

Jack’s cock felt ignited with renewed and painful interest. His eyes roving over Will’s trim form. It had been months and he had lost none of his muscle tone. His skin a shade tanner from days at sea. Hair longer, worn in a loose tie at the back of his neck. His pants, dark against the deep maroon velvet. 

WIll watched Jack’s interest piquing. He waited, patiently, for Jack to squirm like a dog in heat. Leaning back against the plush pillows, he let out a sigh and spread his legs wider. He looked at Jack’s pained expression through dark lashes, seeing him fight the urge not to move or rub himself against the floor. Gazing out into the audience, Will could make out few faces. Shimmering eyes lusted over him, drinking in the power he was exuding. He felt limitless. Infinite.

The blacksmith returned his attention to Jack who sat, practically vibrating with anticipation. Will leaned forward locking eyes with his, and gestured with one hand crooking two fingers low, between his legs, for Jack to approach.  
Sparrow needed no further encouragement. Hands on the floor, he crawled to his blacksmith’s feet, feeling his own cock heavily bobbing as he moved. Will smirked, noticing that even at a crawl, Jack’s hips swayed devilishly.

Licking his lips, the pirate kept his gaze at Will’s skilled hands as they undid his pants with agonizing leisure. Finally, Turner’s cock sprang free, more than half hard, and curving slightly to the right.

Sparrow’s nerves were on fire, as he knelt, head level with William’s length. Will gazed down at Jack, palming himself luxuriously, and readjusting his body. The pirate stared up at Will, mouth slightly open, silently begging. 

Will exhaled. "Let's put that clever mouth of yours to use…"

With deliberate slowness, Will gently cupped a hand behind Jack’s head, guiding wicked lips onto his cock. Sparrow held his breath, glancing up at Will, who leaned back, closed his eyes, and sighed. 

“Suck.”


	3. Playing With Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack misbehaves....Will shows him his place and things get a little heated.  
> (**Yes, the much awaited sex scene - thank you for your patience!**)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kinky sex. If that is not something you care to read, please skip over to Chapter 4.
> 
> I do not own any of these characters or related elements. Do not use any of my work as your own. Do not post without permission. The kink presented in this work does not represent the extent of real-life practices and safety. Do not attempt to replicate the kink in this work, as it is purely fictional and meant to remain so.
> 
> All kink in this series is considered consensual.

Will’s throbbing cock pulsed in Jack’s mouth, heavy and warm on his tongue. Sparrow swirled his tongue around the head, licking the slit experimentally, earning him a hiss as Will gritted teeth. Slowly, he drew it in, nose meeting chestnut curls, inhaling the scent of salt and...citrus? What *had* his William been bathing in? While not unpleasant, it was different from what Jack remembered. Bringing himself back up Turner’s length, Sparrow sucked harder, tongue flicking the tender underside as he moved. He blew cool air onto the twitching shaft before licking a bead of precome from the tip, enjoying the bitter saltiness. Suckling Will’s sac, fingers made their way to the delicate seam leading to his puckered entrance. He replaced his mouth over Will’s cock, slurping in earnest as his hand pressed gently behind Will’s balls. Turner moaned and began to roll his hips in time with Jack.

Pleased, Jack added his other hand at the base, gently twisting his curled fingers around the hot column as his head bobbed upwards with increased suction. He felt his own length straining against his pants, and continued to focus on Will’s breathing to distract himself. But this proved difficult as Will’s gasps and moans were growing louder.  
The pace quickened, and Jack paused at the tip of Turner’s cock to skim the frenulum and base of the glans while his hand brushed only the underside, whispering over the purple vein running through it.

Will managed to open his eyes, nearly coming that instant at the sight of Sparrow’s sinful mouth worshipping him. He was nearing that glorious edge as Jack’s pace increased again. His hand fisted the pirate lord’s hair, beginning to pump himself into that exquisite mouth. Head thrown back, his hips bucked upward, nearly gagging Jack. The sounds of the mouth on him; wet suction, slapping skin, labored breathing - he was coming undone. 

Jack felt the back of his throat burning as one hand massaged the soft, supple skin of Will’s inner thigh, earning him a deep groan from his blacksmith. Encouraged, he let Will’s cock glide deeper down his throat, its head unrelentingly threatening to choke him as the movements became more erratic.

His one hand returned to Will’s tightening balls, rolling them gently; his forefinger gracefully petting Will’s taint. The blacksmith began to pant and writhe. Jack’s other hand continued kneading his thigh, pushing his hip open further. The pirate lord was lost to the sounds of his lover’s panting and quiet pleas. 

Hearing Will so close to the edge, and seeing his eyes shut in frustration, the pirate took his hand from Will’s ass, and lowered it to his own, much neglected length. Hollowing his mouth around Turner, he discreetly palmed himself through the rough linen. Even the minor touch was exquisite! Losing himself in the sweet friction, he rocked his hips against his own hand, giving a groan that sent beautiful vibrations down Will’s dick.

“You see Jack…” Will’s voice was tinged with dark promises and memories, “That mouth of yours, can be put to much better use….ungh!”  
The blacksmith was unravelling, and Jack basked in his circumstantial power as he eased his hand into his pants and around his own weeping cock.

Feeling mischievous, his palm still on Will’s thigh, he began to curl his hand into a fist, pinching the milky skin of Turner’s leg under his nails as he grabbed a handful of flesh. The blacksmith kicked out reflexively, and shifted away from the intrusive sensation - his dick making a delightfully wet ‘pop’ as it was pulled from Jack’s lips. 

The spell of lust evaporating, Turner gulped down air as his brain gagged for the oxygen which was currently being sucked dry by blood flooding his own cock. His chest heaving, and feeling more than a bit irritated, he looked down at the man between his legs. Pupils constricted as he took in the scene before him, registering what Jack had been doing while Will’s eyes were closed in bliss. 

Jack’s hand still on his own length, he leered up at Will. Coal had started to smear on his heavy lidded eyes, and his cheeks were flushed from arousal.  
“I couldn’t resist, mate” Jack drawled, his face slick with saliva. 

Will’s inner sadist snarled in a fit of vexation, laced with lust, his reaction instantaneous.  
Bolting upright, he seized Jack and threw him unceremoniously face down onto the chaise, snagging a hank of rope from the side table as he did so. 

The pirate was barely able to catch himself, and the wind was nearly knocked out of him as his chest made contact with the padded seat. As he began to push himself up, he felt strong arms enveloping his torso, manhandling him. His upper body was hauled onto the tall, curved side arm of the sectional, elbows just barely supported, and his knees resting on the plush seat. He found himself curl into the sleigh-back shape, letting his arms dangle downward as he caught his breath. 

No sooner had his breathing slowed, Will’s chest was plastered against his back, as he aggressively shoved Jack downward, forcing his body to bend and conform to the shape of the plush arm-rest. Will’s body weight kept him from budging and Jack glanced down to see the blacksmith fastening his bindings to a sturdy looking ring, attached to the base of the chaise. “That’s interesting…” As the thought flew through his bewildered mind, Jack suddenly became hyper aware of the position he was in. Ass in the air, arms nearly immobilized, and brain synapses failing to fire. He felt sacrificial. Every nerve on fire, watching Will finish tying his ropes. Closing his eyes, he tried to breathe as the agony of waiting alone was most definitely going to kill him. 

With ropes secured, Will started to slide his own body down Jack’s. Rough hands came to a stop at the pirate’s hips. Jack felt Will’s breath ghosting along the carvings and burns still glowing in his skin. Fireworks exploded beneath Jack’s lids, his cock growing painfully and impossibly harder. He shivered as a hand snaked around his abdomen, and slithered down the groove of his inner thigh, taking hold of his dick. 

The blacksmith made him wait, letting him count his own heartbeats. Sweat beaded on the small of the pirate lord’s back as Turner held him still. A lifeage; an eternity went by in silence. 

“What did I say…” Fingertips rolled the purpling head in spirals, before Will’s thumb rubbed crosswise against the slit. “About trying to come…” He held the glans in a pitched grip, “Without. My. Permission?” He tugged at the fragile flesh for emphasis as he said each of the words. 

“Do you have anything to say for yourself?” Will hissed in his ear.

Jack was seeing red and instinctually made to pull away from the cruel hand tormenting his cock. But his ass merely met resistance against Will’s own frame, and his wrists being bound, made his arms wrench, pulling his shoulders towards his ears. 

Jack took a sobering breath, and was just barely able to whisper to his captor, “Parlay?” 

Will chuckled darkly at the sight, but took no mercy on his prey. He let go Jack’s cock, moving to rub soothing strokes along the man’s belly. Up and down the soft hair of his lower abdomen, brush the curve of his ribcage, and skirt the angular planes of his pectorals - tweaking a nipple he did so. 

The pirate lord was a quivering mess. Speechless, his breath coming in short puffs, skin ablaze with what felt like ice water coursing through his veins. Glimmering facets of fear stole throughout his mind as he hung his head low in exhaustion. 

Will watched, enjoying the sight of Jack so helpless and clearly struggling.  
His calloused hands deftly pulled down the waistband of Jack’s pants, exposing the bronzed globes of muscle. He maneuvered himself so his shins pinned Jack’s into the supple leather beneath them, and sat up off his heels into a tall kneeling position. His dick bobbed, aching and leaking. He licked the palm of his right hand, and experimentally smacked the pirate’s right buttock, just to see it ripple. Jack yelped and arched, pressing his pubic bone down into the cushion as though his clenched ass was literally trying to squirm away from Will. The blacksmith smirked, and grasped both of Jack’s hips, repositioning the man’s body into more of a table-top position once again. 

He rubbed his length along the cleft of Jack’s ass, just over the center crevice, seeking friction. 

“I could paint your back, pirate. Just from this.” Will held the crests of Jack’s pelvis as the weight of his cock sank slightly between Jack’s cheeks. “And just leave you like this...” He looked out at the audience. :...For the dogs. They’d devour a piece of ass like yours. Mmmh. Do you know how powerless you look?” He tightened his grip as Jack tried to shift. Will bit back a desperate whine as he fought to keep himself together. “I could fetch a lovely price for your ass, you know. And that filthy, gorgeous mouth of yours.” His balls lightly slapped against Jack’s tight buttocks, sending Will into near rapture. His breath husky, “I could abandon you, unfinished, and mad with need.” 

The pirate lord squirmed under his grip, pelvis rolling uncontrollably, in search of any ounce of friction. His cock pressed against his belly, its tip jutting out of his waistband, begging for attention. Will took one hand and traced the outline of Jack’s swollen girth through his pants, just enough pressure to elicit a beautiful sob from the man beneath him. Jack mewled incoherently, his wrists chaffing in their bonds.

Will reached, dipping his fingers into a bowl on the side table, generously coating them with oil. With his other hand, he massaged Jack’s lower back, soothing him.  
“Shh….Now…” He took a steadying breath as he oiled his own cock, “Given that horrid display of….piracy...earlier,” He lined himself up, willing himself to be still. “I don’t think you’re really deserving of any ‘niceties’ this evening.” He pushed the head of his cock between Jack’s cheeks, teasing the puckered ring of flesh. His own heart rate elevated as he fought for control. Sweat beaded on his chest as he leaned over Jack’s flanks, breathing into his ear and wrapping one hand around the man’s throat, the other still grasping a hip.

The head of Will’s cock began to ease through the first ring of muscle.

Jack’s babbled something unrecognizable as he squirmed beneath Will, his ass hole burning as he felt Will slowly stretch him. His shoulders threatened to pull from their sockets as he struggled for a comfortable position. The lack of preparation combined with the sweet nothings Will whispered in his ear , put him through a gauntlet of contrasting sensations and emotions. He (*somehow) made a mental note that he would have Will ‘pay dearly’ for this, if given the opportune moment.

The blacksmith trembled, moving both hands to hold Jack’s twitching hips. “They’re all watching,” Will whispered, positively dying with need as his dick probed Jack’s entrance. “The seduction, humiliation, and….undoing…. of the infamous Jack Sparrow.” 

Jack bucked back against Will with inviting protest, and growled “There...There should be a Captain somewhere in there…” 

Having barely finished the sentence, Will plunged into Jack, mercilessly tearing through him. Jack’s body convulsed at the lance of pain shooting through his spine and he cried out in pleasure as Will began pumping furiously. He kept his eyes shut, trying to press back in time to Will’s thrusts. Turner repositioned his own arms, wrapping one around Jack’s taught waist, the other cupping the juncture of his neck and right shoulder. 

He slowed his pace, pulling nearly all the way out, and paused. He pressed his forehead between Jack’s shoulder blades.  
“Lets just say its a matter of ‘leverage,’ mmh?” He slowly sank balls deep, Jack fought for breath,

“I take your pretty little cock here, “ Will palmed Jack, teasing.  
“And give them a good show.” Will slowly stroked with maddening skill. Jack groaned, yet again twisting his wrists against his ropes.  
“Your debt will be considered paid. But only if…” He snatched his hand away, panting, “Only if you beg me to let you come”

Will pulled back out, then pressed halfway back in, and stilled.  
Jack was nearly sobbing. He bucked, and writhed and canted in rage and desperation.

“Please, William,” He pleaded. Will suddenly set the pace again, drilling in and out of Jack’s slick heat. 

“Please what, Jack,” His thrusts were harder, his hands bruising on Jack’s pelvis. He bit down on the soft curve of Jack’s shoulder, clamping down as he continued to snap his hips.

“Please let me…” His mind was a blur of agony and want. He felt Will’s hand playfully squeeze his ball sac. “Please let me come!” 

Will, who was barely hanging on, himself, drove deep as he took Jack in hand, stroking furiously. His own climax building, he slowed his hand but increased the strength of his grip, easing Jack into a matching rhythm. moving in time with his own. 

Sweat stung his eyes and he felt the hot coils clenching in his belly. He looked down at Jack, reveling in the sight of his ass bouncing against his balls, the muscled ring clenching around his length, the striations of his back tensing with building release. He was so close, hair falling loose from its tie. He heard Jack’s strangled moan.

“Please, my dear William….”

Hearing his name, Will cried out as white hot pain and pleasure coursed through him as he shot his seed in rivulets into Jack’s body’s welcoming chambers. He held fast to the base of Jack’s cock as he rode through orgasm, his hand still pumping rapidly. His soul on fire, and his lungs screaming, he fisted a hand in Jack’s hair, wrenching his head back to reach his ear. 

“Come for me Jack, ” 

Will nipped at his neck, sending Jack into oblivion.


	4. Exhale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post scene, Jack and Will are being fluffy, snuggly bastards; and get some cool news from their host.  
> Aftercare, Jack is fidgety...Will loves it. Someone takes notice of their chemistry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own any of these characters or related elements. Do not use any of my work as your own. Do not post without permission. The kink presented in this work does not represent the extent of real-life practices and safety. Do not attempt to replicate the kink in this work, as it is purely fictional and meant to remain so.
> 
> All kink in this series is considered consensual.

Will, emerging from his momentary blissed-out stupor, opened his eyes to the soft glow of votive candles from beyond the stage. He felt his body rising and falling with Jack’s breath as he lay, euphoric, across the pirate lord’s limp form. Mouth parched, he moved to sit up, the cool air settling on his sweat soaked skin. Gingerly, he pressed a hand to Jack’s shoulder, trying not to touch the fresh wheals that were radiating heat beneath him. 

His mind refreshingly clear, Turner did up his breeches, and slowly came to stand beside his lover. His eyes roved over defined musculature, the curve of Jack’s ass tinged pink from exertion, and the curl of his lip as his mouth hung open, drinking in the perfumed air. Will tenderly placed a hand to Jack’s cheek, the pirate glancing up. Warm, chocolate eyes met Will’s as Jack breathed a sigh. 

His heart gave an unexpected flutter at the thought of having Jack back in his life.  
“You alright, love?” he whispered, watching Sparrow’s ribs slowly expand and contract. Coming down off the high of what he had just subjected the man to, he felt a surge of pleasure engulf his body, sending tingles through his extremities. What Jack allowed of him; asked of him….begged of him. To use his body, unyielding and dangerously. The trust he held in Will.

Watching for signs of injury, he saw Jack wince as he stretched his legs out behind him, “You cheated,” He murmured, feeling his sensitive, raw flesh pulling and stinging as he moved.  
“Pirate,” Will chided playfully, stooping to undo the binds on Jack’s wrists and noting some of the skin abrasions he would have to tend to later.

He knew Jack could take most anything he threw at him. But given how long they’d been apart, a piece of Will still felt the need to fuss over him, just a bit, until they’d reacclimated to each other. (*Wait, wasn’t this whole scene...reacclimating? Will laughed to himself)

The lights came up and the audience began to mill about, returning to various activities. It was customary not to clap, or intrude on those on stage as to allow for performers to come down off their high, provide any necessary aftercare, and only speak to them once they were back in what was considered public space.

Will surveyed the room. The lamps burned low, and it seemed a few degrees colder than when he started. He assumed it was due to the adrenaline drop. Standing next to Pryce, was the dark, majestic woman he saw before the show, nodding towards the stage. They looked to be in quiet conversation, looking over documents. Will thought little of it, assuming they were negotiating a scene or other related business. He kept his attention on Jack. 

Setting down the rope he had just removed, Will took Jack’s wrists, kissing each of them in turn. He assessed circulation before asking Jack to make a fist around his own fingers. 

“What are you implying about my grip, Turner?” the pirate’s gold teeth glinted as he spoke, and he gave Will’s hand a tight squeeze. The blacksmith merely raised an eyebrow in response. Once Will was satisfied, Jack pulled his arms in, grimacing a bit as he flexed his elbows. He carefully pulled up his pants before stretching out fully on the soft leather, settling on his stomach.

The blacksmith ran his hands over Jack’s body, assessing for chafing, bruising, blood and swelling. Everything looked manageable and he quickly pulled over a chair and small cabinet containing balms, ice water, salves, soft towels and oil. 

His mind blurred. The adrenaline, the endorphins, the thrill of finding Jack, having not even been looking for him! Thoughts fought through a mist of yearning and memory once again. Jack looked peaceful; beautiful even. A pang of pity seared through Will’s gut, absorbing what Jack may have been put through during his time here, and at the mercy of hands other than his own; even if it was consensual and by choice. Will’s heart ached. 

He leaned over, and pressed his mouth to the pirate lord’s neck, stroking hair and beads aside. Jack hummed, lazily lifting his head from where it rested on his crossed arms. He cupped Will’s face, and gently guided him down for a proper kiss, Turner’s lips parting for Sparrow’s ever curious tongue. They inhaled each other. Jack tasted like spiced rum, mixed with subtle hints of opium. 

Sparrow nipped at Will’s bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth. Will ran his fingers along Jack’s jaw, and the shell of his ear. Smiling, he exhaled forcefully, remembering his task at hand. With Jack’s (undivided) attention, he handed him a small corked water-skin, “You need to drink,” Will huffed, slightly light headed. Jack took it eagerly and took a deep pull from the mouthpiece. His face however, turned to a scowl.

“William, what in the deepest circle of hell is this?” He whined, gesturing at the liquid.  
Always the smartass, Will thought. “Water. You’re dehydrated. Now take another drink, and lay back down. “ Jack did so, begrudgingly, and handed him back the vessel as though it were endangering his life. Pouting, he nestled back into the cushions, muttering to himself “Why’s the rum always gone?” 

Satisfied, Will also took a swig before setting it aside. He rubbed a cloth into a small cake of salve, and put it to Jack’s shoulder. The pirate flinched, then soothed, as Will massaged fresh, herbal smelling gloss into his wounds. Heat was pouring off Jack’s skin, and Will was careful not to spend too long working one area over. Moving his hair off his back, he wrung out a cold soaked cloth gently pressing it down between Jack’s shoulder blades, making him wince and hiss. 

“ Shhhh.” Will gently stroked his palm against the back of Jack’s calf, assuring him. “I’ve got you.” Jack calmed. Will noted that he was still just as fidgety post scene as he remembered. Jack Sparrow, his pirate lord; able to take the beating of a lifetime, but a quivering damsel in distress in the aftermath. Will secretly loved these stolen moments of genuity, when Jack let him be tender and soothing, letting most of his guard down, albeit the snarky, smartass comments.

They relaxed in silence as Turner continued tending to Sparrow’s seething flesh. The wall torches burned low, weighted with transparent pools of wax. Will, satisfied with his work, discarded his items and began to run his fingers through the pirate’s mane of braids, beads and bones. Jack lazily lifted his head, peering back at Will.  
“Did someone come to save me, just because they missed me?” He grinned.  
Will, ignoring the quip, stood, gazing down at Jack. He helped him come to stand on shaking legs, putting a hand to his chest to steady him. He held it there, feeling Jack’s heartbeat. Strong, and unwavering. 

The two of them went to Jack’s room. It was small, modest, but comfortable. Jack’s effects hung from the bedpost, his weathered hat on the back of a chair. A few bottles and flasks were strewn about the space; candles and lamps lined the top of a small shelf. There was a bed in the corner, draped with an elegant, richly colored throw. An opium pipe lay across a flurry of parchment paper obscuring the top of a bedside table.

Will sat next to Sparrow on the bed, Jack taking a moment to collect himself. The strain in his shoulders and back a bit more pronounced now that his blood had cooled and the adrenaline subsided. He gave a muffled groan as he reached for a flask, and drained it. Turner watched, bemused...some things never change. Will ran his fingers along the simple, carved pattern on the headboard, admiring the craftsmanship. He began to worry a bit over Jack’s lack of solid food, post scene, and, turning back to face him, started to ask about a galley kitchen. He had barely begun to speak, when Jack boldly silenced him with a kiss. Shocked, but definitely not complaining, he let Jack explore his mouth, remaining still, giving him free reign. The pirate’s hands slowly wandered to Will’s lower back, squeezing the flesh above his hip, pulling him close. His movements were unhurried, not desperate or needy. He gently pushed Will down onto the bed, peppering his face and chest with chaste kisses.

“Oh William,” Jack’s voice was thick with exhaustion, “How I’ve missed you, my dear…” He kissed Will’s collarbone, ‘’...dear…” a kiss to his jaw, “William.” He kissed Will’s lips as though he would never see him again. Longingly and almost apologetic.  
The blacksmith freely accepted Jack’s weight as he breathed into him. They lazily explored each other, desperately fighting how bone tired they both were. After what felt like an hour of hungry, gentle, ghosting caresses, kisses and petting, the two men lay facing each other, arms and legs entangled, surrendering to sleep.

Turner was startled awake by a soft knock at the door. He got up, careful to not disturb Jack, wanting him to get as much rest as he could. Answering the door, he stepped out to find the fair haired boy from the bar, holding an envelope addressed to ‘Master Turner,’ written in a curly, periwinkle ink. Will thanked him and took it, returning to Jack’s room. He opened the letter, sat down on a chair, and read: 

“Master Turner,  
As the host of our event tonight, on behalf of myself, as well as our esteemed guests, it is my pleasure to thank you for your patronage this evening. Your display on stage was most well received. Please consider this transaction a written pardon of Master Sparrow’s previous outstanding debt to our establishment. His contract has been closed, yet it has been noted that he remains in high standing with our house, should he choose to return at any time.

I would also like to bring a proposition to your immediate attention:

A business entrepreneur, and potential business partner of ours, expressed a high level of interest in your performance tonight. They would be most honored to begin a negotiation with you, regarding their future investments. Should this be of interest to you and Master Sparrow, you may collect details at your next call to port. Please leave pertinent forwarding details at the bar with Dorian, and we will see to it that the information both remains private, and makes it into the right hands. Again, I stress our dedication to discretion.

You, and Master Sparrow hold standing invitations to our future performances, as we would be delighted to either host you as our guests, or have you return to grace our stage.

With the highest possible respect,

~Pryce.”

Will, processing the new information, went to the bed, gently kissing Jack to wake him. Bleary eyed and a bit dazed, Jack sat up, seeing Will collecting his things.  
“Whassgoingonluv?” He slurred, as he stretched, looking around for a shirt.  
“You’ve been pardoned,” Will said brightly, checking his own belongings. “It’s nearly mid day.” He planted a kiss on Jack’s forehead as he started gathering the pirate’s effects. 

Sparrow looked at him, quizzically. “And whad’you plan to do with that, dear William?” He gestured to Will, holding Jack’s hat, holster and pistol.  
Will dropped the belongings in a pile on Jack’s lap, and handed him Pryce’s letter. Jack’s eyes grew wide as he read. Upon completing it, he bolted from the bed, and began frantically rummaging around the bedside table. Will watched, amused. After a minute of distressed searching, Jack finally stopped, sighing in relief. It was Will’s turn to look confused. 

In answer, Jack held up a worn looking box with delicate etchings on its lid. He opened it, revealing a compass, its needle endlessly whirling. Seeing Will’s expression, he pocketed it, grabbed his coat and the rest of his belongings.  
“Now, if you don’t mind,” Will saw the glint in his eye, “ I’d be much obliged, If you dropped me at my ship.” 

The two of them squared things away, thanked Pryce, and, with piqued curiosity, left their details with Dorian. They stepped out into the sweltering heat of the Caribbean, and made their way to the docks. 

Jack’s eyes skimmed the shoreline, catching sight of familiar sails on the horizon. 

Will was fighting his own giddiness, trying not to beam. He clapped Jack on the back, playfully, making him shudder. 

As they waited for the ship to dock, Will glanced at Jack. He looked whole again, standing tall, with his coat billowing in the sunlight, hat slightly askew.  
“Jack, why did you wait so long for me to find you?” Jack looked at him, puzzled as Turner continued, “You could have paid your debt 100 times over by now...but you….waited for me. Why?”  
Jack moved, leaning in so close that Will could smell the spiced rum on his breath, his coal rimmed eyes glittering with promise. 

Jack leaned closer, his mouth hovering above Will’s,

“Not all treasure is silver and gold, mate...” and closed the distance between them with a fiery kiss.

“...Savvy?”


End file.
